Trapped In A Box
by JessiOnTheMoon
Summary: In the aftermath of the Sadie Hawkins dance, Blaine realizes that being out and proud is no longer a safe way to live. WIP, eventual Klaine. Character spoiler for 3x15.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright. This isn't going to be a happy story. Well, it will eventually. But not yet! I've gotta torture Blaine a little first. Please be aware of the character spoiler for 3x15. **

**And this will eventually be a Klaine story, but for now, we're starting at the events of Sadie Hawkins and moving on from there. It's an Anderbros bonding story, and will largely follow Season 2 (and maybe 3?) canon, but will deviate somewhat in the smaller aspects of canon storylines. **

**Enjoy! And please let me know what you think so far!**

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><p>The world is pain. And cold. And hopeless.<p>

There isn't a part of Blaine's body that doesn't feel these emotions, one, ten, a hundred times more powerful than he's ever felt.

He lays shaking on the asphalt in the parking lot outside of his school, the only place other than his own home that he should feel safe, no matter what. He can feel the blood running down the side of his face, can tell vaguely that his wrist is definitely messed up.

He tries to call for his brother, but no sound comes out. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills Cooper to come, to just walk outside from the dance that he and his friends, who have all long since graduated, volunteered to chaperone. He should've just waited and taken the offered ride home from Cooper. He'd stupidly thought he would be getting his first kiss tonight. His date had dusted himself off and ran, not long after the boys with bats left. Blaine had hoped he'd gone to get help, but so far he's still alone. Blaine wants to think that if he'd been in his position, he would've gone for help, but he's not sure. He wishes he could run away from this now and never look back, never think about the pain and the terror.

He isn't sure how long he lays there, shivering, hurting, but it feels like hours.

He hears footsteps approaching, and his first thought is that the boys are back to finish the job. He whimpers, trying to twist his body away, to make himself move, but his knees won't cooperate with his brain, his ankles won't bend right; he can't get up, get away.

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" It's a woman, someone Blaine doesn't know, but recognizes as the volunteer who was taking tickets at the door earlier in the evening. There is a younger girl, one of Blaine's classmates, trailing behind her, her eyes wide, jaw dropped. Blaine spares a thought for how terrible he must look, covered in blood, wrist bent at an unnatural angle. "Do you know him?" the woman barks at the girl. "Do you know his name?"

The girl nods, but can't take her eyes off of him. "It's Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

The woman must recognize the name; as she pulls out her phone and dials 911, she turns back to the girl. "Go inside, get Cooper Anderson. He's a chaperone, tell him to get out here." The girl finally draws her eyes away from him, looks up at her mother. "Go!"

Blaine listens to the woman's voice as she talks to the operator on the phone, describing his injuries, their location. He closes his eyes again, the parking lot lights overhead making his head hurt worse than it already does. He can't stop shaking, clad only in his thin dress shirt and cheap suit pants, both of which are nearly soaked through with sweat and blood. Listening to the extent of his injuries, Blaine can feel his heart start to race, his breathing picks up, and he whimpers every time his wrist is jostled with his shaking.

He hears someone running across the parking lot, shouting his name. Cooper drops unceremoniously on the ground next to him, his hands hovering over Blaine's body, unsure what to check for first.

"Blaine. Oh shit, Blaine," He pulls off his suit jacket and balls it up, gently lifting Blaine's head and placing it underneath.

"There's an ambulance on its way," the woman offers.

Cooper doesn't say anything, wipes Blaine's hair out of his face. Blaine jumps when the injury on his head is touched, even as delicately as his brother is handling him. Cooper leans down and presses his forehead to Blaine's, his thumb running lightly over his cheek.

"Blaine," Cooper breathes out, "You with me, buddy?"

Blaine still hasn't opened his eyes, doesn't want to see the broken look he knows his brother is wearing. He opens his mouth but only a whine comes out.

"C-coop," he manages, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, which Cooper brushes away. He can hear a siren in the distance, steadily getting louder as it nears. "Coop."

"It's alright. It's okay, help is coming," he smooths his hand down Blaine's arm, reaching back up to touch his cheek. "It's okay."

The paramedics arrive and it's more of a blur to Blaine than the beating was. He can't do anything useful, can barely move, can't speak to describe what happened. He's laid out on the stretcher, his left hand being put into a splint, and he reaches up with his shaking right hand, blindly feeling for his brother.

"I'm right here," Cooper says behind him, taking his hand. Blaine squeezes as hard as he can, which isn't very, but he feels better knowing that he isn't alone anymore. Cooper's other hand comes down on his forehead, smoothing back his hair again.

"He get in a fight?" one of the paramedics asks.

"Does he look like he got in a fight?" Cooper responds, sounding angry. "Someone beat the shit out of him and left him in a parking lot."

The other paramedic is looking over Blaine's swollen ankle, and he whines at the contact, turning his face to rest against Cooper's hand.

"It was a school dance," Cooper says, calmer, quieter, his other hand coming down to rest on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "He's gay. He went with another boy. They left, and we found him in the parking lot. I think I can fill in the rest."

Blaine feels a pinch on the inside of his arm, and a few seconds later, the pain is receding; he feels almost human again.

Blaine relaxes his face and blinks open his eyes, looking at his brother's upside-down face behind him. Cooper smiles down at him, "Hey, there you are."

"Here I am," Blaine croaks, and Cooper's smile grows bigger. The ambulance comes to a stop and the doors open, the cold night air rushing over Blaine, who squeezes Cooper's hand tight again.

"I'll be right behind you," he drops a quick kiss onto Blaine's forehead before their hands fall apart and Blaine is wheeled into the hospital.

* * *

><p>When he wakes up, most of the pain is gone. He picks up his heavy left arm, his wrist in a proper cast. Cooper is asleep in a chair next to his bed, looking exhausted.<p>

Blaine feels drained, devoid of emotion. Now that his physical pain is being managed, he has the brain space to begin processing what happened to him. How a night that started out perfectly ended with such disaster. How the first punch came out of nowhere, shocking him enough to let the others jump on his date, while the biggest one grabbed Blaine by his hair and dragged him behind a row of cars. How the bat came down, first on his ankle, then again on his wrist, followed by an awful crack and an explosion of pain.

He licks his dry lips and stares at the wall, in disbelief that he's in the hospital, in this awful itchy gown, an IV line in his arm, cast on his wrist and ace bandage on his ankle.

He breathes out a tired sigh and Cooper stirs in his chair.

"Hey," he says quietly, scooting his chair over and taking Blaine's good hand. Blaine doesn't take his eyes off the wall, unable to look at his brother, ashamed to have been seen at his very worst by someone he admires for his strength. "Not talking?"

Blaine hums quietly. "Mom and dad?" he asks, finally looking at Cooper.

Cooper frowns. "Stuck in New York. They're trying."

Blaine shakes his head, wincing at the lingering pain. "No they aren't."

"They are," Cooper insists. "You don't give them enough credit, Blaine. They love you, you know that."

Blaine doesn't respond, just closes his eyes and leans back into the pillows behind him.

"What a terrible dance," he whispers miserably.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine is in the hospital for just over a week. Nine days, over 200 long hours of Cooper's bad jokes, awkward looks and conversations with his mom, his dad standing quietly behind her chair, unable to make eye contact. And when visiting hours are over, staring at the wall. Lots of staring at the wall, trying to stay awake, to not see the boys behind his eyelids.

When he is discharged, the ride home is silent and uncomfortable. Blaine leans against Cooper, who pats him on the knee, and watches his dad's eye flit from the road to the rear view mirror. Blaine thinks he reads sympathy on his face, pity in his eyes, but he chalks it up to the painkillers settling into his system, weighing him down to his bones.

Dinner is another quiet affair. Blaine doesn't feel much like talking, still heavy from the painkillers and lethargic from the week in bed. Cooper keeps throwing worried looks at him. His mom is determined to fill the silence with idle chatter, but when she mentions Blaine making up for missed schoolwork, he is immediately all ears.

The thought of going back, of trying to blend into the background again, of the rumors that must be flying from his week away. He has thought several times about calling his date, Kyle, to get an update on how bad things are at school, but he can't dial the numbers without his hands starting to shake, his heart pounding uncomfortably.

In the end, he and Cooper convince their parents that Blaine can't return to his school, knowing that the boys who hurt him so badly are freely roaming the halls. Three days after he is released from the hospital, his mom makes an appointment at a private school nearby and takes him back to his school to empty his locker. When she pulls into the parking lot, his heart starts racing and he struggles not to cry in front of his mother. They pass over where it happened, where the concrete is still stained with his blood. He closes his eyes and lets his mother direct him toward the front door.

He limps down the quiet hallways, the boot on his ankle echoing. When the bell rings and the hallways fill with chattering students, he closes his eyes and latches onto his mom.

"It's alright, Blaine," she says, smoothing a hand down his back. "Let's just get in and get out, alright?"

He nods, ducking around students and teachers, using a shaking hand on his combination lock. With help, he manages to pull his notebooks into his bag, plucking the photo of him and Cooper from the inside of the door, putting it carefully into his jacket pocket. When he looks up, he notices a folded piece of notebook paper sticking from the vent at the top of the door.

Curious, he pulls it down and pockets it alongside the photograph.

"Done?"

He nods again, sniffling, wiping his sleeve over an embarrassed face. "Yeah. Let's go."

He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder, ignoring the kids pointing and whispering around him.

"Later, Anderson," calls out a voice and Blaine stops in his tracks, his mom running into him from behind.

"Blaine?"

He drops his bag, shaking from head to toe, turning slowly.

It's him. The biggest one, Carter. The one who dragged Blaine away by his hair and handed his friend a bat, laughing. The smile on his face is entirely creepy and sends a shiver down Blaine's already shaky form. Mrs. Anderson frowns, putting her arm around Blaine's shaking shoulders, picking up his bag, leading him out of the school.

"Not enough evidence," she mutters angrily. "Your reaction should be evidence enough."

When they reach the doors, he vaults away from his mother, falling to his knees and grabs onto a tree to steady himself, doubled over, stomach heaving. When his stomach is empty, his mother gingerly helps him to stand and puts her arm back over his shoulders. He tucks his face into her neck, and let's her take him to the car.

Once buckled, he leans his face against the cool glass of the window. His breath leaves puffs of fog, condensation obscuring his view.

"We'll postpone the meeting with the Dalton headmaster," his mother's voice seems dim, he can barely hear her over the rush of blood in his ears, his still pounding heart. "You should take a few more days off I think."

He nods, numb, tears pricking at his eyes. He can see the face, can almost feel the fingers tangling in his hair, the scrape of concrete against his skin.

By the time they arrive home, Blaine feels on the verge of panic. Before the car is even put into park, he throws off his seat belt and jumps out, running as best he can into the house. tears streaming down his face.

He limps past his father, past Cooper, who calls out "Hey, how'd it go?"

The question goes unanswered, unheard, as he takes the stairs two at a time, slamming his bedroom door shut and falling face first onto his bed, sobbing frantically into his pillow.

He hates this - feeling this hopelessness. It's been almost two weeks since he was a victim of gay bashing, at the age of 14; he shouldn't have to be dealing with something like this.

"It isn't fair!" he screams into his bedding.

A soft knock sounds at the door and Blaine pulls his pillow down over his head.

The door creaks open.

"Can I come in?"

"Go away, Coop," Blaine moans through his tears. "Please go away."

The bed dips next to him. He peeks an eye out and sees Cooper laying back casually on his bed, arms supporting his head, looking back at Blaine.

"Nope," he says, smile evident in his voice.

Blaine sniffs, trying to control his tears; he hates crying in front of his brother.

But his brother knows him best, knows that when he's upset, he yearns to have someone around. Blaine isn't much of a social creature, but he craves human contact, a tangible reminder that he is around people who love him.

Cooper rubs his hand lightly up and down his back. Neither of them talk - they don't have to.

Eventually, Blaine's tears subside and he peeks out from his pillow.

"Sorry," he mutters sheepishly, blushing.

"Don't be sorry. Just talk to me. Whatever you need, okay?"

"'Kay. Thanks, Coop."

"S'what brothers are for, right?"

Blaine smiles and sniffs again. Cooper flips onto his stomach, mimicking Blaine's position, his arms tucking under his pillow, face turned toward his brother.

"So what happened?"

Blaine sighs, "We went to clean out my locker and he - he was there. The main one - Carter." A shiver runs over his body and he presses his face back into his pillow. "I just want it to stop."

Cooper hums. "Well, you're transferring to Dalton right? Fresh start. You can just be the mysterious new kid."

"Yeah the mysterious new kid with a cast and a limp. That's definitely what I want," Blaine mutters dryly.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Blaine, running late. Running very, very late," Cooper runs around the house collecting his textbooks and shoving them into his bag.<p>

"I'm just - hey can you come help me with this?" Blaine calls from his bedroom. With some trouble, he has managed his button-up white shirt. But the tie. He wants to burn it for all the grief it's giving him.

"Here, here," Cooper sweeps behind him, deftly fixing the tie and holding out Blaine's blazer and bag. Blaine studies himself in the mirror, his new uniform, pressed and perfect for blending in. It is a bit of a struggle to fit the sleeve over his cast, but he pulls it off. He brings his good hand up to his hair, testing the hold on the gel he begged his mother for. No one is getting their hands in his hair.

"Westerville is only sort of on the way to Columbus. Very late," Cooper reminds him. They leave New Albany and make the twenty minute drive to Westerville, Blaine fiddling nervously with the strap on his bag. "Alright," Cooper says, pulling up through the main gate. "If anyone gives you shit, just call me okay? I'm like a half hour down the road." He sets his hand on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing lightly. Blaine just nods, staring up at the building before him, chewing on his lip.

He takes a deep breath and steps out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."

"Sure thing. See you at 3!"

He tries to remember the path he and his mother took the day before, the class-to-class tour, mentally mapping the quickest way to get in and out of the hallway. He knows about Dalton's zero-tolerance policy - it's the main reason he's here at all - but it doesn't stop him from being constantly on edge, at the ready to run, as best he can with his one good foot.

He stares at the ground as he walks, doesn't want to make eye contact, as if he has gay bashed written on his forehead, and everyone will know everything about him, and will make their own assumptions about what they don't know.

He is staring at the schedule in his hand, trying desperately to find his first class, when he bumps into a student and stumbles backwards, looking up in fear, "Sorry. Sorry."

"It's okay. Blaine, right?"

When the flash of panic subsides, he recognizes Wes, the boy who gave him the tour the previous day.

"Y-yeah," he mutters, looking back down. He regards the paper in his hand and looks helplessly up at Wes and his group of friends. "I can't—"

"Let me remind you," Wes says, smile reaching his eyes, taking the schedule from Blaine and putting a friendly hand on his shoulder.

His first day at Dalton isn't so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here's Chapter 3! I have a ton of +favs and alerts and things for this story, but no reviews, so please, take a second and let me know what you all think so far! For all I know, you're alerting so you can publicly mock me later! ;)**

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><p>Blaine settles into Dalton well. He arrives at the same time every morning, Cooper nearly always running late for his own classes at Ohio State and rushing them out the door. Blaine has learned to be an early riser if he wants to have any time to get ready at all.<p>

It's the same routine every day. Shower. Undershirt, underwear. Trousers, belt, socks. White dress shirt, tie. Tie shoes. Gel hair. Double-check the contents of his school bag, blazer and go. It keeps him calm, keeps him steady. He can think of the next task and not let his mind wander. He only spares a time to smile to himself when he hears Cooper rampaging through the house trying to find his shoes - _where are the damn things? _- or coat or keys.

In school, he tends to keep to himself. His mom tells him constantly to branch out, to talk to his peers, make some friends, but to Blaine, everyone he doesn't know is a potential enemy. And he hates that he thinks this way about the guys at Dalton, about anyone really, when he was always determined to see the best in people before. He wonders if he lost that part after the fist to his face or the bat to his ankle. He hears his mom talk about his i_ost innocence _while his dad grumbles along with her.

Wes never fails to find Blaine in the halls and walk him to class or bring him to the lunch table he shares with his friends. David and Thad and Trent are all nice guys, always sure to include Blaine in their conversations. They bug him relentlessly to audition for the Warblers, though Blaine turns them down every time, politely as he can. Wes keeps an eye on him, not that he really needs it. He doesn't go out of his way to talk to anyone but Blaine has to admit the attention is kind of nice. To be someone who is cared about, sought after, mentored. Wes makes it known that Blaine can come to him with any questions, concerns, problems he might have. Blaine always smiles and nods.

November comes with a blast of cold - there are four inches of snow on the ground the first week of the month. It does nothing to lift Blaine's spirits. He and Cooper used to pass the snow days with hours spent in the cold, throwing snowballs and building igloos and daring each other to stick their tongue to the frozen porch swing, until their mother would call them inside, ready with hot chocolate and tissues for their red noses. Now it just serves as a reminder of how he isn't that little kid anymore - how he can't be awed by frozen precipitation when there are people in the world capable of hate and violence.

Two days after the snow falls, he is called out of his homeroom class and directed to the grand hall. He gathers his things and peeks out into the empty hallway, hoping he remembers the way.

_The one time I really need Wes_, he thinks.

The grand hall is set with chairs and tables, a podium on the stage, refreshments table off to the side. Blaine filters in with several of the students he recognizes from his classes, all of whom are also new, freshmen or transfer students like himself.

A man at the front taps on the mic, which squeals, causing a commotion among the students.

"Welcome, welcome, boys, now if you'll all please find a seat."

Blaine is lost as a sea of blazers file toward the chairs, seating themselves and chattering.

"Quiet, quiet please!"

Blaine turns to the front, watching the man he recognizes as Professor Treeger, the dean of students.

"We're still waiting for our guests from our sister school, Crawford Country Day, to arrive but until then, please allow me to officially welcome you all to Dalton Academy."

He looks down over the students, smiling.

"Many of you are here as part of a legacy, next in the long line of Dalton men before you, while others of you are just getting your first taste of the life of a private school setting. I trust you are all settling in well?"

A chorus of "yes, professor" rings throughout the room when the door in the back creaks open and a harried woman pushes through, an apologetic look on her face, shaking the snow off of her boots.

"Ah! And it appears our guests have arrived," Professor Treeger motions to the back and the entire group of boys turns to watch.

A group of plaid-skirted girls come through the door and many of the boys around Blaine begin to clamor excitedly.

"Find a seat, girls."

The girls keep together in a small group except for one who breaks off and weaves through the tables, finding a seat near the front, which just happens to be next to Blaine.

The rest of the girls file into their seats, and the woman and Professor Treeger continue their welcomes and launch into their speeches. The girl turns to Blaine.

"Hi," her smile is bright. "I'm Amanda."

Blaine regards her, decides she presents no real threat and he wasn't brought up to be rude.

"My name's Blaine."

"So you're new at Dalton?" She points to his wrist. "Guess I can see why."

"Oh, no no," he is always quick to correct people when they assume his injuries are the reason he is there, whatever caused them. He doesn't want to have flaws, dents in his armor. He is often thankful for the long sleeves of the blazer which cover the lingering green tint of bruises that still litter his skin.

"Has nothing to do with- with this," he raises his arm. "My parents thought public school was a little too... easy. And it will look great having Dalton on my college applications."

"Oh I see," Amanda smiles again, though she doesn't sound convinced. "Same with my parents. Nothing but the best for their little girl," she rolls her eyes, laughing an infectious laugh.

Blaine can't help but smile along with her. He looks at the boys at his table to see if they are laughing too and notes the envious look on all their faces.

He turns back. He supposes Amanda is a pretty girl. He isn't particularly inclined to check out girls, but he isn't blind. Her face is pleasant, her long brown hair pulled back into a simple braid.

They talk quietly enough to not be noticed by the professors; at the end of the speeches, they are all dismissed and the girls are gathered up by their headmistress to leave. Amanda pulls a pen from her bag and snatches a napkin up from their table. She scribbles on it and hands it to Blaine.

"If you aren't busy this weekend," she looks shyly up at him, "you should call me. Maybe we could see a movie or something."

Blaine gapes at her, looks down at the napkin in his hand. He swallows hard, "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Okay, good," she nods once, beaming at him, "Bye, Blaine."

"Bye," he breathes out, still staring at her number. The girls leave and all the boys at Blaine's table lean in his direction.

"Dude, you got a _number_!"

"You're going to call her right? If you aren't, can I?"

"Way to go, man!"

Blaine looks up at them, the awed looks on their faces. They are looking at Blaine like he is some sort of god.

_I just got asked out by a girl_.

Cooper is late picking him up that day, but he doesn't notice. He sits on the usual bench, his bag in his lap, feet freezing in the slush and breath fogging up the air. His fingers are numb, but he can feel the soft edges of the napkin.

As soon as the boys had surrounded Blaine, he forgot to be scared, didn't instinctively curl in on himself. They were patting him on the back, laughing and smiling at him, i_with/i_him. It isn't something he ever remembers experiencing from anyone other than Cooper - that easy acceptance.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cooper's voice shakes him out of his thoughts. He pockets Amanda's number and climbs into the car, sticking his hands directly in front of the heating vents, not looking at his brother.

* * *

><p>Dinner, as usual, is quiet. Blaine scratches absently at his cast, trying to dig the handle of his fork under the plaster to reach the itch.<p>

"Blaine," his father says in that voice that says _stop right now_. It's only by pure instinct that Blaine listens.

"Sorry."

"So," his mother starts, "You boys have plans this weekend?"

He and Cooper look at each other.

"I might hit up an OSU game," Cooper shrugs. "We're playing Texas this weekend."

Blaine feels his face flushing red. He'd called Amanda earlier that night to set up their Saturday plans.

"What about you, Blaine? Plans?"

He pushes his food around the plate, "I um - I have a date actually."

He is met with stunned silence.

"No kidding!" Cooper exclaims. "Who is he? He goes to Dalton right? Come on, spill!"

He doesn't look up, can't meet anyone's eyes.

"No, um. Actually she goes to Crawford."

That even gets his dad's attention. "She?"

"Yeah. Her name's Amanda. There was a new student assembly and the new girls from Crawford came and-"

"That's bullshit."

Blaine looks up at Cooper, who is staring daggers into Blaine.

"What?"

"You're dating a girl?"

Blaine nods, looking back down at his plate.

"You're gay."

Blaine nods again. "Yeah, I know," he says quietly. His cheeks haven't stopped burning.

"So why are you going out with a girl?" Cooper demands.

"Why are you upset? I know I'm gay, Coop, but..." he trails off, not sure how to finish the thought, how to explain that the first time he's been accepted by a group of guys was when a girl was asking him out. How to put that feeling into words.

Cooper slumps back into his seat, realization dawning on his face. "You aren't out at Dalton."

It isn't a question.

Blaine shakes his head, biting his lip. He stares at his lap, the disappointment dripping from Cooper's voice ripping Blaine into pieces. He can feel himself starting to shake, hot tears pricking behind his eyes.

"Blaine, Dalton is the one place you _can _come out and be safe," Cooper starts.

"We thought New Albany High was safe," Blaine murmurs.

"No, Blaine," he shakes his head. "No. Okay? If those kids have a problem with you being gay then it's _their _problem, not yours."

He finally looks up at Cooper, "They kind of made it my problem when they knocked the crap out of me with a bat, Coop."

Cooper just shakes his head, pulling the napkin from his lap and throwing it onto the table.

"You need to be you. And stop lying to yourself."

Blaine looks to his mom for help, but she just looks stunned. He turns back to his lap, "It doesn't matter, Cooper," he is fully shaking now, voice shuddering trying to keep his emotions in check.

"It's bullshit."

"Cooper." Their father finally interjects, in _the_ _voice_. "That's enough."

Cooper pushes his chair back from the table. "You've always been proud of who you are. And I've never been so disappointed in you, Blaine."

He walks out of the dining room, shaking his head. Tears fall freely over Blaine's face as he picks up his fork and pushes his food around, any appetite he once had now long gone.

"Blaine, honey," his mom starts. "You know we just want you to be happy."

He nods, barely contained sobs threatening to break through. "Can I be excused?" he sniffs, voice high and tight.

"Yes," his mother says quietly, sadly.

He stands, wiping his face, and walks out onto the cold porch swing, curling up and finally letting out his tears.

* * *

><p>He isn't sure how long he lays there, only that most of his body has gone numb with cold and the overwhelming sadness mixed with anger at himself and at the boys who hurt him. Anger at Cooper.<p>

He doesn't understand Cooper, understand why it matters so much that he isn't out. The people who matter, Cooper, his parents, they know. Dalton was supposed to be his fresh start, his chance for a do-over, and if he comes out now, he may as well have stayed at New Albany High.

He remembers the feeling when he'd gone back to clean out his locker, the sneer on Carter's face when he saw them. The pointing and whispering by people he'd once considered friends, before they all started avoiding him like he'd been contagious. How the only person who understood how he felt hadn't contacted him since that night.

The note he'd found in his locker, he'd pulling it out, hoping it was from Kyle, explaining why he'd left Blaine there, why he hadn't gone for help. But it was a simple sentence in girly handwriting, _I hope you're okay –Carrie_. He had pulled out his yearbook to find girls named Carrie and had stumbled upon her, the girl whose mother had found him in the parking lot, bloody and beaten. She was the only one who'd reached out and shown concern. He wonders if she had really been so affected by that night; she'd had to deliver the news to Cooper, watched helplessly as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance and rushed off into the night.

He starts when something warm is pulled over him. He opens his swollen eyes and sees Cooper squatting next to him tucking the blanket over Blaine's shoulders. Blaine grabs it and pulls it up over his face.

"What? What do you want?" He sniffs, fresh tears over his face.

"Can I sit down?" Cooper's voice is quiet, somber.

Blaine sighs and pushes himself upright, pulling the blanket tighter. Cooper sits next to him and immediately wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close. Blaine turns to sit sideways against the back of the swing and tucks his cold toes under Cooper's thigh. He wraps his arms around Cooper, burying his face into his coat.

"I'm scared," he cries. "I'm scared, Cooper."

"I know," Cooper says, pressing his face into Blaine's hair, rubbing him thumb over his shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's always going to be your choice to tell whoever you want to tell, Blaine. I'm so sorry."

"I just- I don't want to be _the gay kid_," his voice cracks and Cooper tightens his hold. "I just want to be Blaine. It's been so long since I've just been Blaine." He is quiet for a second, says hesitantly, "I thought I was going to die that night."

Cooper doesn't say anything but wraps his other arm around him, enveloping him in warmth. Blaine's crying settles and they sit together in silence, Cooper rocking the swing slightly with his feet on the porch.

"Did Mom tell you to come out here?"

"No," Cooper answers too quickly. Blaine looks up at him. "Yes."

_She knocks lightly on his bedroom door._

_"What?" Cooper grumbles, pulling open the door and looking down at his mom._

_"That was a little harsh, don't you think, Cooper?"_

_He throws his hands in the air and turns back into his room, "What do you want from me? He's going out with a girl, lying to everyone at school-"_

_"So what?" She asks sternly. "So. What? He came out to us before he came out to New Albany; why is it any different now?"_

_Cooper presses his lips together in a tight line, stares at her, thinking._

_"Blaine... Blaine's been through the wringer these past few months, Coop. If he can find one thing that makes him even a little bit happy, isn't that worth looking the other way for a while?"_

_Cooper sighs in defeat._

_"And telling him you're disappointed?" Now she sounds disappointed herself. "You're his hero, Coop. He looks up to you for everything," she shrugs, "You know that."_

_She brings a hand up to Cooper's cheek as he stares down at his feet, chewing on his lip._

_"Don't abuse that power he gives you."_

_He looks up at her at that, and nods. "Where is he?"_

_"Out on the swing."_

_He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. "Okay." He grabs a spare blanket from the hall closet and goes to find his brother._

Blaine's eyelids grow heavy, he feels himself starting to drift off, pressed into Cooper's warmth, his hand rubbing over the back of Blaine's neck lightly.

"Coop?"

"Hmm?"

"It's freezing."

Cooper huffs out a laugh, "Yeah. It really is."

Neither of them move, content and comfortable together.

"Coop?"

"Yeah, Blaine."

"It's like, really freezing."

Cooper laughs again, "Okay, okay. Let's go inside." He stretches, legs out straight, arms high over his head, bringing it back down around his brother. Blaine stands, the blanket still around his shoulders. "We okay, Blainers?" Cooper asks uncertainly.

Blaine looks at him, eyebrows drawn in. "As long as you never call me Blainers again."

Cooper smiles down at him, "Deal."

They walk into the kitchen where their mother is waiting with two mugs of hot chocolate. Blaine almost loses his breath with the memories that flood through his mind. He plops into a stool wrapping his hands around the warm mug, face over the lip, breathing in the scent of chocolate and peppermint.

The three drink in silence. Their mother rinses out her mug, setting it in the sink. She steps up to Cooper and lays a kiss on the top of his head. Over to Blaine, a kiss on his forehead, her hand on the back of his head, lightly scratching through his hair.

"Good night, boys."

"Night, Mom," they chorus. Once she is upstairs, Blaine drains his mug and places it in the sink next to his mother's.

"Night, Coop," he yawns.

"Night, Blaine."

He steps toward the stairs, but turns back when Cooper calls his name again.

"Did you need a ride?"

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "When?"

"For your date."

A slow smile spreads over Blaine's face. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. Thanks."

Cooper just nods, smiling into his mug and waving him off.


End file.
